


Ordering Coffee at the Existential Crisis Cafe

by vega_voices



Series: You Are Like That, [7]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lots of Angst, Night, gotta step up my game, how do i now have more Voyager stories posted than DS9 ones?, i love her but she is an idiot, in case you were wondering Kathryn Janeway is an idiot, just let yourself love him you nitwit, season 5 ep 1, this is full of angst, this one took way too long to write, whew, who let these ladies into my head like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: Did a starship’s nacelles still glow blue if there was no light to reflect?
Relationships: Chakotay & Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: You Are Like That, [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861696
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21





	Ordering Coffee at the Existential Crisis Cafe

**Title:** Ordering Coffee at the Existential Crisis Cafe  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Star Trek: Voyager  
**Series:** You Are Like That,  
**Pairing:** B’Elanna Torres/Tom Paris; Kathryn Janeway/Chaokay (UST/references to past relationship)  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Timeframe:** Night  
**A/N:** This one has been a month in the making. At what point are your characters just too damn in their own heads?  
**Disclaimer:** You know the drill, kids. Star Trek and all the affiliated concepts are owned by the powers that be. I’m just explaining what the characters were up to even when everyone was looking. I don’t get any money for this. However, my offer always stands … Also, please remember that the poems used in this series are written by Tess Gallagher and I while I share them here, I hope that you will seek her work out and celebrate it. 

**Summary:** _Did a starship’s nacelles still glow blue if there was no light to reflect?_

 **The sleep of this night deepens  
because I have walked coatless from the house  
carrying the white envelope.  
All night it will say one name  
in its little tin house by the roadside.**  
From _Under Stars_ by Tess Gallagher

Kathryn had felt it, the moment they crossed the threshold to the sector. The change wasn’t instantly visible, no, that took a couple of days, and they all watched silently, from viewports, from the bridge, as one-by-one the stars blinked out, their disappearance moving at an exponential pace until, finally, all was extinguished and around the ship was only, truly, the vast nothing of emptiness. Did a starship’s nacelles still glow blue if there was no light to reflect? 

She’d felt the shift, the subtle change in tone. Everything was quieter, calmer, with no one around to outrun and no emergencies to manage, it was easy, so easy, to move from her command chair to her ready room to the quarters that were both too large and too small all at the same time. By the second week of absolute nothingness outside her viewport, Kathryn was holed away in her quarters, pretending to read, mostly dressed for duty, hiding from every perceived judgement that lurked around every corner.

How easy it was to fall from the exalted place on the bridge and face the demons in her bathroom mirror. No amount of time in the sonic shower or amount of coffee poured into her favorite mug would change the reality that she had condemned one-hundred-and-fifty people to struggle and die sixty-thousand light years from anything and everything they knew. And it was easy to justify some of it - beyond the altruistic nature of saving the Ocampa. People like Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres and Chakotay - God, Chakotay - were awaiting jail sentences back at home and at least here, here they were members of a community and not trapped behind penal colony force fields. Kes was exploring her universe. Neelix was in a safer position than before. She could argue with herself all night long that she’d done some good out here, but it didn’t change the fact that the truth was they would never see home again. Voyager was home. Their families, their friends, their lovers, they’d all moved on - or died. Poor Chakotay. Poor B’Elanna. Here she was crying over Mark, but he was alive and well. The maquis crew were mourning the death of everyone they’d fought alongside. Friends and lovers and comrades. She had weighed offering an official memorial service for them, but knew it was best to not overstep her bounds. Those losses were for the maquis crew to hold and she felt silly even thinking of it. Even wanting to be there for Chakotay couldn’t move her to leave her quarters. 

Two years. Two years of this darkness. And they’d only been at it for two months. In the back of her mind she could hear her father lecture her, reminding her that guilt would only harm everyone around her. But that was a sermon best made in the hallowed halls of Starfleet Command, where security was only a comm badge away and the planet beneath their feet was stable and the closest enemy wanted nothing to do with invading their quadrant. Out here, there was no one to answer to but herself. She’d adjust, right? They all would. And maybe, if she was lucky, the darkness outside would creep into her quarters and swallow her whole.

***

“How was Captain Proton?”

She asked the question as he stepped into her quarters and instantly, she regretted jumping the gun. No ‘hello, how are you, how was your rather boring day flying through the Void?’ She was trying to be funny, but funny hadn’t been on their agenda lately and now the damage was done. She watched him weigh his reaction, hoping he’d catch the tone in her voice and the smirk on her face. Truly, she wasn’t irritated. It had given engineering something to do and now she was just glad they needed to install more emitters in the cargo bay. Anything to keep busy. She watched her lover from her place on the couch, hoping he would stay. Right now, she needed his light as compared to the darkness outside. Too much darkness gave her the time and the chance to think about her dead friends, the ones who had been wiped out in the blink of an eye by an enemy she couldn’t even comprehend. What the hell was the Dominion anyway? 

“Great,” Tom said, capturing her wandering attention as he hovered at the table by the door, “until the Doctor barged in, not even giving Harry and me the time to finish up.” He sighed and sank into the chair, and B’Elanna felt bad for teasing him. It must have been a long day. “For a guy who is all light, he’s certainly got an attitude.”

“It’s how he was programmed.” B’Elanna tossed the PADD onto the couch next to her but didn’t get up. “He’s as much constrained by his programming as the rest of us, I think.” Internally, she winced. That really wasn’t where she wanted to go with this. 

Tom was eyeing her carefully and she wished she knew how to reassure him that she wasn’t always on edge. But, wasn’t she? Hadn’t she been a disaster of a par’Mach’kai lately? She’d been so off since the message from Earth about the maquis, and worse since they entered the void. The stars had been such a good distraction. What if the time in this void changed her forever? What if he got tired of her? It wasn’t an unprecedented worry. 

“So, then I was programmed to fall in love with you?” he asked. She froze. She got it. She got that he was teasing her and reminding her he loved her. But what if he didn’t like that programming? The Doctor was always trying to rework his, after all. “Hey,” he tried again, “at least it gave engineering something to do for a few minutes.” 

Ahhh. Yes. What was really on her mind. She sighed and massaged some of the tension from her shoulder. “It’s true. But, Tom …” okay, she was going to drop a moment of reality and then invite him to the holodeck and just spend time with him. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be without the ability to resupply our power reserves. I appreciate that I was able to assign Vorik something to do and that stopped him from his endless lectures about Vulcan meditation, but can you please not let your ego get in the way of making sure the holodecks are working? Especially since I’m still not sure how the theta radiation in this area is going to impact things in the long run.”

He was quiet for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. I can.” 

“Thank you.” 

Silence and B’Elanna waited to see where the rest of the evening was going to go. They both had plenty of time in their schedules and a few hours together in varying states of undress could do wonders for the threads of tension they were both weaving into this relationship. She really didn’t want to fight. Not right now. Not tonight. They could fight tomorrow and the next night and maybe one of the fights would lead to some fantastic makeup sex but right now, she just wanted him to take her in his arms and ignore the nothingness outside. 

After a moment, she pushed the blanket aside and got up, moving over to him, reveling in how he looked at her, how he appreciated the dress she’d chosen in order to show off her legs. Slowly, she slid into his lap and the kiss she received was enough to change the tension in her entire body. Drastically. “So,” she said as she broke the kiss, “I had a thought about tonight.”

“What’s that?” His hand was moving up her leg, and she almost gave up on the idea of a date to the holodeck. 

“I’ve got some holodeck time, and I was thinking instead of using it for some exercise program or whatever, we could just escape for a couple of hours. You and me. She traced her fingertip over the lines of his face, loving how his eyes always took in everything she did. “Look, I know I’ve been short tempered lately, and I can’t promise I won’t be tomorrow but maybe tonight we can go for a walk far away from this void of nothing. There’s this secluded beach on Teriani Prime that --”

He kissed her, hard. “Sounds perfect.” 

B’Elanna pulled off his lap and took his hand and he followed her down the corridors to holodeck two. Everything was so strangely still, even though things felt more active than ever. People were sleeping less, wandering more, seeking out some kind of contact. Spacefarers needed the stars as points of connection. B’Elanna keyed in the codes for her program and they stepped inside to the calming sounds of a beach at twilight. Together they settled into a comfortable pace along the sand. Captain Proton wasn’t her speed, despite how proud she was of him writing the program, but she was glad he liked these kinds of walks. She liked Sindarines and his cafe in Bucharest and the garage where he rebuilt ancient cars, but this setting was where she always felt just a bit more free. Maybe, her mind mused at her as he tightened his hand in hers, this was the reason they worked so well together. She was the beach, he was the ocean, and they just couldn’t be without each other. 

“Can I ask you something?” he ventured after a bit, jolting her back into the present, this holographic beach. It stopped her mind from wandering back to the Alpha quadrant, to friends she would never see again. 

“Of course.” B’Elanna winced and tried to focus on him. She needed to be here. In this moment. 

“It’s one of those cultural difference questions. So you’re welcome to slug me.” 

That made her laugh and she squeezed his hand, coming completely back to this place, this beach, on this holodeck. “I’m sure I can replicate a painstik,” she teased. There was a rock nearby and she led them to it, scooting up onto it and making room for him to sit next to her. He did, taking her hand again. 

“Did you try to join Starfleet because of how Klingons perceive engineers or …”

She did slug him, but it was light, and as she rolled the question around her mind, she really appreciated it. She also decided that for all her personal issues with a culture she barely understood, it was time to remind him of a few things. “Tom, Klingons had cloaking technology over a hundred years ago and their warships have competed only with the Romulans for levels of superiority. The Federation does not have … what’s the expression the Ferengi use? They haven’t cornered the market on technological development and it has always limited itself in the development of technology in order to keep the peace with their neighbors - which is really stupid if you ask me and is going to come back to bite them.” If she separated herself out from the Federation, despite being born on a colony world, it was only because the Federation had never really accepted her. She wasn’t completely Klingon and she wasn’t really human and there weren’t enough hybrids like her and all anyone ever saw when they looked at her were the understated ridges anyway. The Federation was an other to her, despite the uniform she wore every day. 

“I will say the Federation does seem to lead the way in terms of cybernetic research and artificial intelligence,” she continued, “and really, Starfleet has never been shy about putting its proverbial finger into a live relay and then developing a whole new form of technology based on what happened.” She pulled a knee up and rested her elbows and chin on it, looking out over the moon reflecting on the water. “But to be honest, I can’t really give you an answer to your actual question because I’m a grown ass woman and I still don’t know where I fit in among humans or among Klingons.”

She could see the truth stung him, but the truth was that, for all his pushback against his father, and his hiccups with Starfleet, Earth had always been home and he’d been raised around people who looked and thought like he did. “I’m always here to listen, even if I don’t understand,” he said. “I love you.” 

“I know,” B’Elanna said. “I love you too.” She fell silent again, hearing the plea in his unasked question. He knew something was bothering her. But she couldn’t voice it. Not yet. How did she bring that weight into their world? They were decades from the Alpha quadrant and all of her dead friends …. had already mourned her. They both watched the water. “My turn,” she said. “Can I ask a question?” 

“Always.” He moved his hand to her back and stroked lightly down her spine, raising goosebumps on her skin. For a moment, she wondered how much time they had left, if they could just lock the doors and rip each other’s clothes off. Right here. Connecting physically had never been their problem. But, first, her question. She was still staring at the ocean. “Do you think the reason you had so much trouble settling into Starfleet and the maquis and everything is because you just chose the wrong line of work?”

“You mean if I’d joined the naval service instead of the fleet?”

“Yeah.” 

He sighed, pondering the best way to answer the question. “Yes,” he finally said. “But none of that changes the fact that I’d still have been trying to live up to my dad’s expectations of me only then I’d have been fighting off his distaste for my career choice. Don’t get me wrong, I love flying and even if I’d joined the naval service, I’d have been a pilot too. But I don’t think I’d have ended up in prison if I’d just followed my own dreams. And that alternate reality doesn’t change this one, you know.” The water lapped at the shore. “But, see, B’Elanna, if I’d done that and not ended up on Voyager, would we have met? And I think, honestly, I’d rather be in a position where I’m here on this rock with you than anything else.” 

“My mom always said that we make our own happiness. That fate isn’t real, despite what Kahless would say.” For a moment, she flashed on her teenage self, standing on the bridge at the monastery on Boreth, overwhelmed at the sound of time raging all around her. She’d never understood the visions she’d subjected herself to that night, and now wasn’t the time to pick that internal struggle apart. Wow, did this Void make her over-contemplative. Tom. Focus on Tom. “I think you’d have found someone to love in that world, too. You just can’t comprehend it because it’s not the one you’re living in.” 

“Infinite worlds and universes, hmm? Well, I’ll take the one where I have you here on the holodeck.”

“Even though we fight all the time?” Her voice was small and he really was worried about where her mind kept drifting to.

“Just means you care about me,” he teased. “I’ll worry when you stop fighting me.” 

B’Elanna sighed and leaned against him, glad for his arm around her shoulder. There was so much fog around her, so much she was trying to process, and she felt so numb in the midst of all of it, of this endless night, the mind-numbing routine. There was nothing to chase away the memory of her friends, the guilt for being here and alive and in love while they were all lost to oblivion. Nothing except Tom, and even that felt so clouded, so confused. What happened when he grew tired of her? 

She couldn’t go there. Not right now. 

Right now, things were calm. Right now, he still loved her. Right now, the fog in her brain had been pushed back just enough for her to feel warm again. Later, he’d toss her dress to the floor and help her adjust as she slid onto him. He’d bite her neck and she’d claw his back and he’d shout her name as he followed her over the cliff into post-coital oblivion. Tomorrow, he’d say something to try and be funny and she’d snap at him because didn’t he realize she just didn’t want to laugh right now and they’d start the cycle all over again. But right now, they just watched the moon on the ocean and forgot, for a few minutes, about the nothing all around them.

***

One of Seven’s many secrets was just how unnerved she was by the dark. It was silly, to be scared of the lack of light when nothing had changed in her physical setting otherwise. And yet, the endless nothingness of her charts in Astrometrics, the silence of her alcove as she tried to regenerate, all of it haunted her cycles to the point where she found herself quietly stalking the hallways, finding solace in the patterns of those on Voyager she was still coming to understand as crewmates.

For a moment, she paused, a shout catching her attention. Was someone injured? And then the familiar cadence of B’Elanna Torres’ voice came through the bulkhead and Seven tilted her head, realizing the engineer was engaged in sexual relations - most likely with Tom Paris - and she allowed herself to wonder at the consternation of their pairing. They seemed to argue more than would be comfortable in what her research described as a functional relationship, and yet, they were quite clearly, together. 

What did they understand that the data on the subject of relationships did not? 

The part of her that was still learning social norms was tempted to ask for entry and ask for them to explain themselves, but she also knew better than to tempt the Lieutenant’s wrath in that manner. Instead, perhaps, she would begin a study on the nature of interpersonal relationships. 

Judging from the noises beyond more than a few of the bulkheads as she passed, more than a few lovers were engaged in sexual relations tonight. There would be plenty of behavior to research. 

***

In her most dismal and self-flagellating moments, Kathryn let herself dwell on the weeks on New Earth. When she had not only resigned herself to her new situation, to be considered lost forever to history, but when she’d finally let her own walls come down around Chakotay. How silly, really. She was a starship captain, an accomplished scientist, decorated by Starfleet and the Federation Council. But when faced with the ever present nothingness outside her viewport, all she could really do was let herself wander down the road of self-pity and remorse and potential lost love. After all, a broken and lonely heart was only part of her many choices to deconstruct while regarding the starless night around her. 

Would anyone really care if she threw all caution out the airlock and pulled Chakotay into her bed? Hell, the crew thought they were sleeping together anyway. She wasn’t immune to or protected from rumor. Maybe she should give in to every broken part of her being, allow this man she trusted with everything in her - save her heart - to finally care for her the way he had back then. 

For those few precious weeks, between his confession and the day Voyager had returned for them, she’d let herself be loved. She’d let herself love. She’d said goodbye to Mark’s memory and the burdens of a command she no longer held and accepted that her life in the Delta Quadrant was going to be lived on an uninhabited planet, studying soil samples and local primates by day and loving Chakotay at night - and sometimes after breakfast or in place of lunch. His hands had driven away the demons that haunted her nights, granting her forgiveness she did not grant herself. Had she, in her ever-present selfishness, returned the favor for him? Had she really given herself over the same way he had? Did it really matter anymore anyway? 

The crew had come back for them. They’d reminded her that no one gets left behind. And in the dim light of her quarters their first night back, their fingers linked as she sat on her couch and him on her coffee table, they’d made the decision to leave New Earth behind them and she’d lamented that it had taken so long when they were down there to admit their feelings for each other. But, they had to let go. They weren’t the parents of children on some wayward starship. She was the captain and he was the first officer and even though there was no rule for this kind of a situation, especially out in the Delta Quadrant, she wasn’t about to put the crew in the position of wondering who was safer to turn to. Officers needed to trust Chakotay, to know they could bring their concerns and questions to him without it all becoming pillow talk. They needed to know that she wouldn’t give leniency to crew Chakotay was close to. So, rumors could circulate, but they weren’t together for a reason, and the darkness of this void grew heavier every single day. 

“You don’t hate me?” She’d asked, her voice breaking when he pressed her fingers to his lips. It had been easy enough in her mind to blame that moment on her loyalty to the memory of Mark, to their links to the Alpha quadrant, but the conversation had been brutally honest. “Because, none of this, none of it changes how I feel about you.”

He’d kissed her palm and shook his head and reiterated all of the reasons why they couldn’t pursue a relationship. But it had been so tempting to throw herself at him, to give themselves one last night. Instead, she’d stroked his cheek and he’d offered that damn half-smile of his and walked out of her quarters and it had taken some time, and a couple of stolen kisses during long walks on the holodeck, but now they were on some kind of even keel again. Of course, alone in her quarters, staring into the starless void, all she could do was replay that decision over and over again. Wouldn’t it be nice to have some companionship right about now? Tom and B’Elanna’s childish antics and frustrating arguments aside, at least they had each other. 

God, she was pathetic. 

But it wasn’t just Mark and she knew it wasn’t just Mark and it wasn’t just Starfleet. She was scared to death of not being The Captain, of not showing her willingness to sacrifice all for a crew she’d stranded here against their will - 

Why the hell couldn’t the universe throw something at them to give her a distraction? Being alone with her thoughts had never been a good thing for her. This was why she was a scientist - it was easier and healthier for her to deconstruct the external questions of the universe rather than her internal ones. This was getting pathetic. Maybe it was time to at least get out of her quarters and tour the ship. She could stop by engineering, see what Tom and B’Elanna were fighting about today. Anything to break this damn cycle before she went to bed and didn’t get up again. 

The lights flickered, came back on, and then dimmed out completely. 

Kathryn jumped up, pulling on her uniform jacket. 

Well, okay, if the universe was going to take her literally, she’d go along with the game. It sure as hell beat diving into the wreck of her own mind.

***

There was a part of B’Elanna that wanted to shout “I told you something was up with the theta radiation in this area!” but she also didn’t want to derail any progress to seeing the stars again so she slammed a door on her ego and focused instead on getting the ship running and coming to terms with the aliens who lived here.

The engineer in her wanted all the answers - how had they evolved their propulsion systems, how did they react to the natural light that came from energy transfer? But the catch right now was dealing with the theta radiation and these damn Malon waste disposal goons. Why was it that people were so willing to ignore the life blood of another just because they had to get rid of their waste and why the hell hadn’t a people whose culture thrived on matter/antimatter reaction found a safe way to dispose of it? Kahless, it wasn’t that damned hard. Humans had figured it out two hundred years ago. 

But, as she’d reminded herself all too often lately, that wasn’t the argument. At least not right now. 

But what was the argument? And when was the right time to have it? Didn’t they all realize that the fight to save these creatures from the Malon was the same fight the maquis had been waging against the Cardassians? What made Starfleet defend one group of people defending their homes but attack or ignore another? 

First though, she had to smile and play tour guide for the Malon representative. Be the calm and knowledgeable engineer for a man who smelled as bad as he looked and who leaked enough radiation that the Doctor had gone ahead and inoculated her entire engineering staff - just in case. 

She’d almost shoved him over the railing just to watch him fall to the bottom of the core and she would have if she wasn’t sure that his irradiated body would start a cascade reaction and destroy the ship. 

Now, she sat in a jefferies tube, working out a glitch that hadn’t smoothed itself out since the dampening field had been lifted. Sitting here was calming and kept her focused. People thought she didn’t have anger control techniques, and yet, here she was. Not screaming at anyone and the Malon wasn’t dead. 

Sitting here was easier than thinking about everything else - like how the emptiness in the region made her jumpy and how the Captain had just faded from view until there was an emergency and how she was terrified she’d been when she heard Seven’s voice over the comm line that Tom had been injured and she was bringing him to sickbay. B’Elanna knew she couldn’t get away for every scrape and burn, but she also needed to know Tom was okay. 

The fight the other night still scared her, still worried that for every conversation they had, for every gate they unlocked, they just took two steps back and now, in this region of space, Tom was realizing he was growing tired of her. She wasn’t easy and her dad had promised to love her mom forever and then he’d taken off and Tom wasn’t exactly the most patient of men. What would it take to finally push him away and did she want to just do the honors herself before she ended up completely heartbroken when he decided he was through. Yes, things had been better since he’d let her in on his garage holodeck program, yes, she knew he loved her, but looking down the barrel of decades stuck on a ship with her with no escape had to be wearing on him. 

God, they had to get out of this sector. Even the damage to the ship and the aliens they needed to save weren’t enough to keep the distracting demons at bay. 

Once, when she’d been at the monastery on Boreth, one of the nuns had dragged her into a dark room and locked the door, telling her the darkness would teach her patience. Patience, from a Klingon. And for hours, B’Elanna had railed against the door, pounding the stone until her hands were bloodied and her voice raw. It was only when she sank to the floor, exhausted and aching, that she’d seen the room wasn’t bleak. There were the smallest pinpoints of light from crystal embedded in the walls and she’d spent the rest of her time calculating what she came to realize were the distances between stars around the planet. The crystals were a map of the constellations. When the nuns had come for her, hoping she’d learned her lesson, she’d engineered a way to escape, inspired by the patterns in the rock, and she was standing in the open door, arms crossed across her chest. Telva had chuckled at her - _Too clever for your own wits. No wonder you can’t follow our rules._ Being too clever hadn’t given her anything though - until she ended up here anyway.

Here on this ship of misfits where she still didn’t quite fit in but at least she had a temperamental warp core to play with and a guy who wasn’t tired of her yet, and today, at least, she had a people to help save. 

It was funny, B’Elanna thought as she fixed the last of the blown relay chips and collected the damaged ones to be recycled into new ones later, how similar at times the Starfleet and Maquis codes were. This never ending do-gooder, savior mentality of the good ol crew, it served them well a lot of the time. Head out into the galaxy and meet up with all the cool looking species out there and hope you didn’t start a war. The Federation’s concept of colonization was a little more peaceful than, say, her mother’s people’s. Or the Borg’s. No beaming down to take over a planet at gunpoint just because they liked the view. But the constant hand wringing, getting involved only when it served their own purpose, sometimes she wondered if the unintended consequences weren’t worse than not. How often had Janeway blown right through the Prime Directive because they needed something from a culture while risking all out war with others because she didn’t trust what they’d do with the technology? 

And yet, there was a reason so many Starfleet officers defected. She’d sat in meals with them, before Voyager and now, listening to them all rail the same arguments - the Academy made them believe in the mission and the cause. Being in the field made them understand that peace and exploration didn’t come with some rule book and the best of intentions were in fact, all too often, the road to a hell so many colonists were living. How many steps away was it from handing Federation worlds over to the Cardassians to dumping theta radiation in a region of space that only harmed one group of aliens? 

“Paris to Torres?”

She lifted her head, tapping her comm badge. She’d known the doctor had treated and released Tom, but she hadn’t had time to check on him. It was the first time they’d spoken since the attack. He’d been sent right to the bridge, to maintain the course, to get the alien home. “Hey,” she said into the space of the jefferies tube, “how are you feeling?”

“Like a bowl of tomato soup might be on order for dinner tonight. Think you’ll be able to join me?”

B’Elanna reached the access panel to the jefferies tube and opened the door to find her lover standing there in front of her, a soft smile on his face. Leaving her engineering case on the floor, she threw herself at him. “Keep it warm for me,” she murmured after a kiss. “I’ll be there as soon as we all can take a breath.”

***

The buzz of energy around her was both invigorating and confusing. Seven was particularly intrigued by the sudden appearance of the Captain - which made sense, after all. The ship was in danger. But, the crew adapted so quickly to her emergence from her self-imposed solitude. Several times over the past two months, Seven had sought out a reason to speak with the captain, finding that she did miss Janeway’s presence in her life, only to be rebuffed. “I’m sure that B’Elanna could use your help, Seven.” Or, “Astrometrics won’t run by itself.” After the third attempt, Seven had retreated, assisting where she could, and finding little purpose to her new life aboard Voyager. Two years would prove to be a long time, truly.

So, as the lights dimmed and the ship buzzed to life, Seven found herself at the ready. Her Borg senses heightened with prolonged rest, she was ready to do something, anything, other than study her fellow crew. A crew that, without Janeway’s guidance, still had a tendency to keep her at arm’s length. Save for Lieutenant Paris, whose juvenile entertainments were hardly enticing but he made more of an attempt than any to bring her, as the Captain would say, into the fold. Her deep concern for him after the alien attack would be something she would ruminate over later - after all, her greatest question as she explored her individuality was discovering the difference between a collective and a crew. Other than, of course, the instant exchange of knowledge. 

What she did not understand was how willing the Malon captain was to remain inefficient. Did he enjoy leaking theta radiation and exposing others? Did he truly feel his life was made better by the monetary gain of his business? Seven understood assimilating cultures to gain knowledge, but she did not understand willfully destroying oneself in the pursuit of compensation. After the Malon returned to his ship, she had witnessed Lieutenant Torres crawling into a jefferies tube in search of, what Seven realized through scans, an insignificant relay repair that could have waited until the crisis was passed. But, Seven came to that understanding after her own return to astrometrics. She had come, she told herself, because she was on duty and her role in the crisis was temporarily halted until the next order was given, but in truth she found comfort in running diagnostics that did not currently need to be run. The sounds of the ship’s operating system were comforting to her confused mind. 

Perhaps, when this was over, if the Captain was again willing to engage in conversation, she would ask about these motives. About the Malon’s choices and the Captain’s decision to help the species indgeenious to the Void. Efficiency demanded they side with the Malon, but she had learned that efficiency was not in fact the Captain’s plan or her expectation. Perhaps the Captain would be able to explain when it was that compassion crossed the line into action, for there had been many times over the course of her time with Voyager that Seven had witnessed compassion, sympathy, and even empathy for the plight of a people but Janeway had not acted. Not like this. Was it because of a desperate need for something new and changed in this region of space? Was it because the Malon threatened their shortcut, so to speak? How did getting involved in this conflict not impact the choices of the oft-ignored Prime Directive? 

General Order One made little sense to Seven and she suspected that despite the Captain’s oft-quoting of it, it made little sense to Janeway as well. A true scientist understood that the very nature of the experiment changed the experiment, after all. 

But first, they had to come through this. And until she was needed, Seven stood at her station in astrometrics, listening to the chirp of the computer.

***

Finally, something to do. Something besides wallowing in her own guilt. Okay, so this move she was planning had everything to do with her own guilt and she knew, consciously, that destroying the vortex would result in her death. She’d blink into nothingness, forgoing that place in the record books, and Chakotay would get the crew home.

She couldn’t help but wonder how a ship captained by Chakotay would operate. Looser, she knew. He was a strict commander, but part of that came from his reaction to her, his expectation that the maquis follow shipboard rules. There would be a period of adjustment - the maquis would probably expect to be shown different status, to have more rank and power. She knew if the situation was reversed, that would be her instant reaction. 

Would he fall in love? Find comfort for the long journey home? Would he be more willing to find a new home in the Delta Quadrant, to settle on a planet and encourage a human colony all the way out here? Someday, they might reunite with their genetic brethren, tell stories like the 37s did. Was the drive to get home really that of her crew’s or was it her will being pushed to them? No. Tuvok hid his emotions behind logic, but she knew how deeply he missed T’Pel and his children. Tom and B’Elanna put up good fronts, but more than once she’d caught them standing at the viewports in the mess hall, looking toward a home they had the chance to create together. Harry Kim’s entire world was focused on seeing his family again. Neelix perhaps would be content to stay, would rally the family to thinking of whatever new world was home. But in the end, the ship and the crew would be Chakotay’s, and while her own life wouldn’t last more than the moments it took to destroy the vortex, she was glad for what she could give them. 

He hadn’t questioned her when she’d ordered him to assemble the crew, but she did wish she could have just one moment with him before she left the ship. One last moment to touch him and tell him the truth. 

She’d squandered their time in the sun, but worse, she’d abandoned everything to a darkness that simply wouldn’t pass. 

Really, this was the best decision.

***

“And I thought Klingons cared more about honor than duty, but nope, you humans really have that down,” B’Elanna grumbled as she stared across the bridge at Chakotay. Today was a good day to ignore her human side. She leaned against her engineering console, crossing her arms over her chest, trying not to figure out a way to just break the captain’s neck when she showed up. Dying was such an easy way to atone for perceived sins. The Klingons were great at it. Now, a rough ride with the holodeck safeties off, that could do some good for the tortured soul. If Janeway really wanted some self-inflicted harm, B’Elanna had a program with some pretty realistic painstiks. For all of Tom’s snarking at her about it, the program had helped a lot lately. The rush of adrenaline whenever the pain flooded through her reminded her that even in the void, even with her friends back in the Alpha Quadrant dead, she was still hanging in there.

“I’m not going to deconstruct the Captain’s mental health,” Chakotay fired back in a tone she knew all too well. B’Elanna shut up. “The fact of the matter is that she’s got a short sighted plan here, and we need to be ready to give her alternatives. We are not going to let her take that shuttle and strand herself here.” He met her gaze and B’Elanna flinched. “If this feels all too familiar, it is. But this isn’t the Ocampa and we aren’t going to get stuck here for two more years, and we aren’t going to let the Captain do it either. That vortex isn’t the Caretaker and we are far more equipped than we were four years ago to handle this kind of a moment. She’s going to get off that turbolift and tell us she has a plan,” he paused to look around at all of them, “and we are not going to follow her orders. Understood?” 

There wasn’t discussion, no debate. Just the acknowledgement that they wouldn’t let the captain go off on this hairbrained idea and be an idiot. Stranding herself alone in this region of space? Get a grip, Janeway. 

Five long, tense minutes passed until the Captain emerged from the turbolift, a set in her shoulders that B’Elanna found all too familiar. More than once, Tom had commented about how alike she and the Captain were and she wasn’t sure if, in this moment, she liked the comparison. So, instead she looked out at the void of nothingness, looking past Tom and Chakotay and just at the darkness on the viewscreen. How very fitting, really. 

As a little girl, she’d been scared of the dark. She’d stumbled across a book of fairy tales from Earth and her mind had raced ahead of itself, waiting for dragons to come breathe fire at her and shapeshifting witches to come out of the darkness and steal her away. The drawings in the ancient book had tormented her and she’d been sure the creatures in the pages would come to life. On her third night of terror, she’d heard her mother laughing after her father had come to check for monsters. _And humans say Klingons are the brutal ones. You tell these stories to children!_

The Void was no children’s story, but somehow her fear of the dark had prepared her for this. If this worked, if they could navigate the vortex and ride the shockwave out, she’d be so glad for the stars ahead. Sometimes, Voyager felt oppressive; she wasn’t an explorer, she hadn’t expected to spend so much of her life - perhaps there rest of it - in space. But until the stars disappeared, she hadn’t known how much she needed them. 

She felt Tom’s gaze on her and met his eyes. He smiled and nodded and a light smile touched her own lips. They’d get through this one. And the next one. And the one after that, too. But first, they had to convince the captain that whatever savior complex she was running through her head, it wasn’t nearly as interesting as anything they could pull up on the holodeck. If Janeway wanted to sacrifice herself for humanity, she was sure Captain Proton could find a place for her. 

The turbolift doors opened and as Tuvok called the order to the Captain on the Bridge, B’Elanna found herself standing with the rest of the senior staff. Arms crossed over her chest, she watched Janeway make her rounds, stared at her as she came to stand center stage. Were all captains such drama queens? She stood there, delivering her self-sacrificing orders and B’Elanna finally couldn’t take it any more. She’d lost too many people lately, and she wasn’t losing the first Captain who truly made her feel like she had something to contribute. She wasn’t losing a mentor and, at times, a friend. She couldn’t do it. Not now. Please. Not now. 

“Forget it,” B’Elanna interrupted, before any of the so-well-trained Starfleet crew could say anything. Before Tuvok could interject his logic, before Seven could argue in that Borg Tone of hers. Before Chakotay had to relieve the woman he loved of duty. Klingons got to choose the days to die, not humans. That was the order of the universe. “We’re not going to let you die out here.” 

Janeway could argue all she wanted, but this time, B’Elanna knew, she’d lose. It was a pretty sweet victory for once. The crew played out their roles, asking if they had a say, refusing to follow the orders, but B’Elanna’s gaze didn’t drop. She watched Tom stand up to Janeway, listened to the strength in Harry’s voice, watched the captain walk directly to Chakotay and meet his eye in a way that would strike fear into any warrior’s heart. When Seven flat out said she would not comply, her heart actually cheered a bit. There was hope for the Borg yet. 

And suddenly, things were flowing. Ideas being thrown around. Suddenly, B’Elanna felt useful again. All they had to do was reinforce the shielding. They could do this as a team. Kahless, the captain was dense sometimes. But she didn’t have time to think about that now. She could control the engineering data from the bridge, but she belonged down with her team, making sure things went as smoothly as they needed to. So as the ship flipped to red alert, she jumped into a turbolift with the doctor and Neelix. Back to stations. 

Today was, in fact, a shitty day to die. After all, she had dinner plans with Tom later.

***

Not for the first time, Seven found herself disobeying orders. But this time, it was not because she was absolutely certain that her way was the correct one, but because she understood that the collective standing around her had a better plan than the Captain. It was a strange sensation, because logic demanded that the Captain make the choice she had tried to make. The needs of the many, she knew this crew believed, outweighed the good of the one, or the few. Funny. It was, in the end, very much like the Borg’s way of interacting. The difference was that all too often, the needs of the one were placed above those of the crew at large. How often had the ship been risked to find a lost shuttlecraft? Or to rescue a crewmember from a planet? Hadn’t the crew added months to their journey years ago by seeking out and finding a cure for a deadly disease that trapped the Captain and Commander Chakotay on a planet? Orders had demanded they return home. Instead, they’d gone back.

Humans were, truly, very confusing. 

But, she had a job to do. Alone in her alcove, she could evaluate how she had come to be so trusted of the captain that she earned herself a place on the bridge during a crisis. She could deconstruct Lieutenant Torres’ outright defiance of the Captain, her rushing in to interrupt. Perhaps, when the engineer’s mood was right, she could even ask for her own opinions of her progress and the crew. Of all those on board, Seven felt a connection to her that she did not feel with others. The engineer was, also, alone in ways that went beyond her being the sole Klingon in the entire Delta Quadrant, and she too was, as she had heard so many others say - prickly. 

Right now, however, her focus - while she could focus on many things at once, including the way Commander Chakotay and the Captain exchanged glances and the sense of relief in the Commander’s posture - needed to be on ways to get past the Malon ship and into the vortex. Her engineering skills would be required to assist with maintaining the shielding as they rode the shock wave. Her navigational constructs would be necessary for Lieutenant Paris as he set coordinates. Personal thoughts must wait until she was alone in her alcove. But, she did make a mental note to request another session in the holodeck with Mr. Paris. While crude, his Captain Proton simulation was, also, entertaining.

***

The relief of the stars meant everything. They’d come through this, and she’d been reminded in full force that this crew was a family like she’d never expected to command. She wasn’t in the Alpha Quadrant and it wasn’t her place to just get the ship out of a bind. The hard truth was that she’d made the decision to strand them here, but that decision was a responsibility she couldn’t run from. Shuttlecraft and Malon fighters weren’t going to save her from that reality, and it was time she stopped thinking otherwise. Glancing sideways at Chakotay, she offered him a smile. “You are relieved, if you like. You’ve held things together this long. You deserve a rest.”

He returned the smile and she didn’t miss how his hand moved a fraction of a centimeter, toward her, and she knew how he felt. She wanted to touch him, too. “I think I’d rather be here, looking at the stars. At least … for a while.” She understood the tone in his voice, the one he’d used back all those years ago, the night he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her. Years ago, she’d fought against relinquishing her responsibility as a captain, so much so that she hadn’t jumped into his arms the moment Voyager left them behind. Now, she’d been ready to leap into a shuttle and send them on their way. He’d follow her if she went off duty, but as long as she was on the bridge, he was as well. 

The problem was, her mind wasn’t on duty. Not really. It was on the stars around them and the dinner she wanted to share with her first officer, a dinner she knew Tom and B’Elanna would share themselves in just a few moments when the relief shift arrived. 

She and Chakotay could take the yacht out on Lake Charles. A wide deck and his arm around her and she’d wear that floral dress she knew he liked. Instead, she just nodded and turned her eyes back to the wonders before them on the viewscreen. Maybe they could share a cup of coffee in her ready room later. 

Tom worked the conn, B’Elanna remained at the engineering control station, even Seven was still there. Kathryn took a deep breath and allowed herself the strength of those around them. A Captain was supposed to go down with the ship after all. She was supposed to keep her shirt tucked in and never leave a member of her crew behind. Over the past two months, she’d forgotten all of those rules, and while she knew she could find any number of diagnoses and reasons for her behavior, the truth was that she simply had put far too much on her own shoulders and had stopped trusting the crew to trust her. 

Somewhere ahead the Alpha Quadrant was waiting. They’d get there. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Under Stars  
> BY TESS GALLAGHER
> 
> The sleep of this night deepens  
> because I have walked coatless from the house  
> carrying the white envelope.  
> All night it will say one name  
> in its little tin house by the roadside.
> 
> I have raised the metal flag  
> so its shadow under the roadlamp  
> leaves an imprint on the rain-heavy bushes.  
> Now I will walk back  
> thinking of the few lights still on  
> in the town a mile away.
> 
> In the yellowed light of a kitchen  
> the millworker has finished his coffee,  
> his wife has laid out the white slices of bread  
> on the counter. Now while the bed they have left  
> is still warm, I will think of you, you  
> who are so far away  
> you have caused me to look up at the stars.
> 
> Tonight they have not moved  
> from childhood, those games played after dark.  
> Again I walk into the wet grass  
> toward the starry voices. Again, I  
> am the found one, intimate, returned  
> by all I touch on the way.
> 
> Link: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48861/under-stars


End file.
